


The Winchester Chronicles

by Supernatural Fanboy (Zachary)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zachary/pseuds/Supernatural%20Fanboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lilith, the last of the 66 seals, has fallen and Lucifer has been unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. Castiel has been excommunicated by Heaven and the Winchesters find themselves struggling to coordinate an offensive, anti-apocalyptic movement in the face of disbelief, distrust and open aggression in the hunting community. In these dark, uncertain times an old friend from the past re-emerges with a tale to tell and much needed guidance for the days to come…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exodus

**Author's Note:**

> Starts slow, but works its way to Destiel among other pairings. The story begins in Season 5 and branches out into an Alternate Universe.

“It’s a lot better inside than it looks from the outside,” Missouri said coaxingly as she wiped her forehead.

Jesse looked up at the rusted and weathered sign which hung over the entrance. “Singer Salvage Yard,” he read aloud, clearly not impressed. “If I were Fred Sanford I’d think I’d died and went to heaven.”

“Oh, child, hush!” Missouri chided, with a smile. “Now follow me exactly. There are tripwires and traps all over the place.”

They spent the next five minutes waltzing carefully across the automobile cemetery, guided by Missouri’s sixth sense. At last they could view the aged house of Mr. Singer in the distance. It loomed large like a skyscraper surrounded by urban slum. Missouri was indeed correct. Bobby Singer was a paranoid man - and that was putting it mildly. Spray painted onto the house’s walls were a variety of mystical sigils. Layered on top op each other the house merely looked as if it were the victim of Halloween vandals. Or one of them modern artists. But Jesse and Missouri knew better.

“The phone’s still all static,” Missouri said as she snapped her pink cell phone shut. “They must be damn close. Don’t worry though. This place has got top notch protection. Speaking of which…” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Jesse, honey?”

“Yeah?” Jesse asked, not liking the look on her face.

“Duck.”

In the past three years Jesse had learned well that whenever Missouri said something in that tone a) don’t question and b) act fast. So he did. And just in time. The bullet meant for his head ricocheted off a rotting car door. Damn tripwire!

Nervously rubbing his head, Jesse turned to Missouri with a ‘what the hell’ look. “That was freaking close!”

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have been channeling and using a cell phone at the same time. Won’t happen again. Least that will get their atten-” she stopped mid-sentence.

Standing before them were three hulking brutes - Rottweilers to be precise.

“Oh dear,” was all Missouri managed to get out before they lunged…

**~*~**

“Stay inside,” Dean said sternly to Bobby as he grabbed his gun.

Bobby grunted but stayed put. He had no choice but to obey since Sam had quickly folded up the wheelchair and placed it securely in the kitchen and out of his reach. In the stillness of the late afternoon was the sound of one of Bobby’s tripwire guns going off. They had company. What kind of company, they were about to find out. As they stepped out onto the front porch Sam and Dean steeled themselves for the worst - demons, pissy angels…or Lucifer himself. What they found was three whimpering dogs suspended from a stack of decaying car bodies by lengths of rusted chain.

“What…the hell…” Dean trailed off, swallowing a lump.

“Don’t shoot!” an unknown male voice shouted.

The next moment a middle aged, pleasantly plump black woman came running into sight from around the wall of dead vehicles.

“Missouri?!” Sam and Dean asked in shocked unison.

She bent over and panted, tried to speak but gave it up and merely signaled ‘five minutes’ with her hands. Sam went to help her but Dean stopped him with a look. They had no idea if this really **_was_** Missouri Moseley, an illusion…or a demon. There was still the matter of the helpless dogs.

“Missouri? Is it safe to come out now?” the male voice asked. “Have you convinced ‘em not to shoot **_yet_**? I thought these were friends of yours!”

Missouri opened her mouth finally and said breathlessly, “Boys, it’s me. Put them guns down.”

Dean and Sam shared a look before reaching into their pockets for the bottles they carried so close to hand. Missouri spluttered helplessly as she was doused with holy water. When it didn’t burn her skin the boys were finally satisfied and at last lowered their firearms.

Missouri eyed them cuttingly. “Did you two pick up Bobby’s paranoia? Or have you taken one too many hits on the head since we last met? This entire place is protected by anti-demon wards. If I were a demon I shouldn’t be able to set foot here. Was this really called for?” She sighed. “And my favorite jacket too.”

Sam blushed. Dean smiled ashamedly.

“It’s just water,” Dean said.

Missouri raised her eyebrow. “This isn’t washable suede.” She turned around and shouted. “It’s alright, Jesse. You can come out now.”

“What did you do to Bobby’s dogs?” Sam asked, worriedly.

Missouri shook her head dismissively. “It wasn’t me. It was Jesse. And they are fine. Just restrained.”

Presently, ‘Jesse’, stepped into view.

Dean looked at Missouri smugly, his sense of humor fast returning as it usually did in times of crisis. “Where’d you pick him up, Missouri? You might not be a demon but you sure are a cradle robber.”

Jesse was young, true. But he was also extremely talented, she insisted.

“I bet,” Dean said, punching Sam on the shoulder (who smiled and then tried to hide it).

She slapped Dean hard across the face and succeeded in sobering him up. Jesse had by this time joined them on the porch. He looked to be in his early twenties at the most. Like Missouri, he was not dressed for active hunting duty. He wore boots, a simple pair of faded jeans and a plain black tee. He **_did_** seem to have a thing for shiny jewelry and body art though. There were several silver rings on both his hands whilst bracelets shaped like red-eyed serpents coiled around each wrist. They paled in comparison to the thick silver chain he wore. On it hung a pendant that took the form of two serpents entwined around a ruby and sapphire studded disk. There were intricate markings on his forearms in black ink, though they were indistinct in the dim light.

“Nice bling,” Dean said with an appreciative whistle.

“Thanks,” Jesse replied. “So you two are the Winchesters I’ve heard so much about, eh?”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another.

“Been talking about us, huh, Missouri,” Dean said with a smile. “Good things I hope.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You wish. Now will you kindly invite us inside so we can have a conversation like civilized people? And go in first and help poor Bobby. He’s crawling across the floor trying to reach his chair…and his gun. He wouldn’t want us to see him all undignified like that.”

“Um…yeah,” Sam said, heading inside quickly.

They gave him a minute and then followed.

“Er, about the dogs…”Dean trailed off.

Jesse gave a dismissive gesture and the canines were lowered to the ground, their chains loosened. They immediately growled ferociously and started running towards the house to attack the newcomer.

“Brave little mutts,” Jesse said, “I’ll give them that.” He turned and stared at them. All three stopped running at once, turned tail and ran off whimpering.

Dean smirked as he remembered the near bite he’d received when Rufus had brought them over the week before. “Cool. After you.”

**~*~**

“Missouri, I have been trying to get in touch with you for two weeks!” Bobby said with a smile as he and Missouri hugged. “But you probably knew that already.”

She nodded. “Yes, Bobby. I did.”

“Have a seat, son.” Bobby motioned for Jesse to take a load off. “So why didn’t you call me back?” Bobby asked, turning his attention to Missouri again.

“Well…she said,” casting a glance at Jesse, “we only just got back.”

Sam looked confused. “We?”

“Yeah, me and her,” Jesse helpfully provided, in between bites of the jam tart he’d been offered.

Dean asked the next logical question. “Got back from where?”

“From India,” Missouri said, pausing to have a sip of tea.

“India?” Bobby and the Winchester’s asked simultaneously.

She grew thoughtful. “Well…more like an alternate dimension whose doorway is in India,” she explained (to their shocked faces). “I have a lot of explaining to do. So much has happened since Sam and Dean came to see me back in 2005. I’ve been kept very busy. At times I even doubted my own gift, the truthfulness of the visions…but now I understand. The time is at hand. No room for doubt or error now.”

Bobby sighed. “So you know about Lucifer I take it.”

She nodded then slowly said, “I’ve known for several years.”

“Years?!” Sam asked, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. His expression changed from one of shock to accusatory betrayal. Missouri took his hand gently but he snatched it away.

Dean too was upset, and that was putting it mildly. “You mean all these years you knew what was gonna happen and you couldn’t find the time to give us a damn phone call?” He got up and began to pace angrily. “I don’t fucking believe this!”

“As a precognitive,” she said soothingly, “the first lesson one has to learn is to accept the things we cannot change. Just because we see what is to come does not mean we have it in our power to stop it from happening.”

Bobby patted Sam’s shoulder and he seemed to loosen a bit. “Both Heaven and Hell were gunning for Lucifer to get loose, kid. It was bound to happen.”

Sam looked at Missouri and mumbled, “Sorry.” He didn’t look or sound genuine though. Missouri let it slide.

“It’s okay.” She smiled weakly. “And no Dean, I wasn’t lazing around flat on my ass these past few years.”

“I…I didn’t say nothing,” Dean stuttered. “And I wasn’t even **_thinking_** that! So you can’t -”

“You were **_about_** to think it,” Missouri said in her ‘I am always right’ voice. “About a year after you left Lawrence, I had a visitor. From the moment I laid eyes on him I knew he was special.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Special? Like a psychic?” One of Azazel’s special children perhaps?

Bobby looked intrigued. “You sensed something about him.”

“That’s just it,” Missouri said cryptically. “I sensed **_nothing_** about him. I hadn’t even sensed his arrival on my front porch. He said he’d come to see me and…well I was afraid. I was trying my all to read him and kept coming up blank. I told him I wasn’t working that day and locked the door. When I turned around…instead of facing an empty living room…he was standing there.”

Jesse stopped eating for a moment to say, “She almost peed herself.”

Missouri was aghast. “Jesse!”

“What? You told me you almost peed yourself,” the boy defended.

“Figure of speech.” She went on. “The next five minutes I swore I was going crazy. It was like something right out of Sunday school. He actually said _fear not_ in this booming voice and this…this light seemed to shine from behind…no…no it seemed to shine **_from_** him. And wings…a whole bunch of wings. Well, I fainted.” Missouri closed her eyes, recalling that fateful day.

Dean leaned forward. “You saw an angel?”

She nodded. “I woke up to him fanning me. With his wings. It felt like a strong, cool refreshing breeze in the outdoors. Nothing in the room was disturbed though. Which is why for days after wards I thought I’d dreamed the whole thing…until the next visit.”

“What did he say?” Bobby asked gravely.

“He said that I had work to do. That there was much to be done and he needed my help to do it,” Missouri answered. “Things are going to go from bad to worse, to worser before it gets better, Bobby. The things Raziel revealed to me -”

Bobby’s brow furrowed. “Raziel?”

Missouri nodded. “Yes. Does the name sound familiar? It should if you have been catching up with your Eschatology given recent events.”

Dean and Sam looked totally lost.

“Raziel is one of the four Ophanim,” Bobby explains. “It means wheels. In a metaphorical sense. The four Ophanim support the chariot of God. They’re the second most powerful class of angels and Raziel was their strongest. In Hebrew angelic lore Raziel is the angel of mysteries. He sits at the feet of God and hears and sees all that God says and does. He wrote a book, um…”

“Sefer Raziel Ha Malach,” Jesse offered. “Compiling all of Heaven’s secret knowledge. Unlike most angels, Raziel loved humanity. He saw humanity struggling just to survive so he stole the secrets of Heaven and gave it to mankind in that book. So we could find our way back home and better understand God.”

Dean looked impressed. “That musta pissed ‘em off.”

Bobby chuckled. “Yeah. They took the book from mankind and threw it into the sea. Then they dragged Raziel to God’s throne for punishment. “Scholars say God himself forgave Raziel and ordered the angels to return the book to mankind.”

Missouri was in agreement. “Raziel has been exiled for over twelve thousand years. My guess is when God left Heaven after the war his brothers did with him as they saw fit and…basically threw him out of the house.”

Sam finally spoke. “How do we even know any of this is real?”

Missouri turned to Jesse. He nodded and motioned to his backpack which hung on Bobby’s coat rack. It immediately unzipped itself and a large, cuboid object flew out of it and landed on Bobby’s coffee table with a thud. It was a book. Bound in black, scaly leather, it’s covers were secured with a thick, ornate clasp and some sort of lock.

Bobby extended his hand.

“Don’t touch it!” Missouri warned. “It’s magically protected. The only ones who can touch the book are those with Raziel’s blessing. It repels all others. Angels, demons and humans alike.”

Dean leaned over the book and scrutinized its cover. “What is that? Alligator?”

“Dragon hide,” Jesse answered easily.

“You’re shitting me!” Dean exclaimed, now simply dying to touch it.

Missouri shook her head. “No. The pages are made from sheafs of paper from Heaven’s own library. They were originally scrolls. But Raziel was kind enough to bind them into book form for us. Completely indestructible. Lucifer -”

“Samael, actually, is his real name,” Jesse corrected her with a smile. “According to the book that is. Lucifer is a misnomer - a Roman god.”

Missouri sighed. “Yes. Samael…Samael would move Heaven and Earth to get his hands on this. Well…to get this **_out_** of our hands more like. Raziel said it was Samael who snitched on him to Michael and the others in the first place.”

Dean could not help but laugh. Lucifer seemed to be a prick from the outset. How embarrassing to have his snitching come to nothing. To have God yet again pick the welfare of humanity over his ego. A look from Sam silenced him forthwith.

“This could be just what we need to help turn things around,” Sam declared, eyes beaming with hope. “This book has Heaven’s secrets. And information is ammunition. Maybe there’s something in there we can use against Lucifer.”

“Um…Sam,” Jesse said, garnering the younger Winchester’s attention. “Information **_is_** ammunition. But ammo also needs the right kind of **_gun_** too. The book plainly states that an archangel cannot die except by the hand of another archangel. There are spells in the Sefer to exorcise even archangels so long as the host consents.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jesse nodded. “Only temporary. They allow the vessel the opportunity to change their minds and send the archangel’s essence away. But that doesn’t stop the archangel from returning in another vessel or convincing the previous vessel to agree again. There’s also spells to weaken and temporarily bind archangels. But none that can **_kill_** them. And in Lucifer and Michael’s case…it’s complicated by the fact that they are the oldest and most powerful and can fall only by each other’s hand. You don’t just need the right weapon, but enough force behind it to deliver a killing blow.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Don’t lose hope, Sam.” Missouri said, her eyes flashing. “We are not as lowly as the angels and demons would have us believe. There is a reason why God favored us.”

Dean sighed. “Really? Aside from the fact we’re his youngest?”

“Angels and demons can do nothing on Earth without a HUMAN vessel. A vessel that, unlike them, was made in the image of God,” Missouri said, spelling it out for Dean. “Demons are nothing more than corrupted HUMAN souls. Azazel, the Yellow Eyed Demon, needed to use HUMANS to release Lucifer from his cage. His special children…”

Several minutes passed by in silence.

“Dean, go see to dinner,” Bobby suddenly ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “Sam, Jesse - help him.”

Taking their cue, Sam and Dean left the room.

Jesse frowned. “I’m a guest.” The look Bobby gave him sent him out of the room trailing after the Winchesters leaving Bobby and Missouri alone.

**~*~**

“How do you put up with her?” Dean asked snidely as he rummaged about Bobby’s cupboards.

“Put up with? You make it sound like she’s a nagging wife or something. She’s cool,” Jesse answered honestly.

Dean laughed at that. “Cool isn’t a word I ever associated with Missouri.”

“You knew her what…for all of two days?” Jesse asked pointedly, clearly offended.

Sam, alone at the stove, merely listened on but said nothing. He was still recovering from Missouri’s revelations. They had shaken him to the core of his being. Just how much did she know? Did she know about the demon blood fiasco? How could he ever look her in the face again?

“Sam!” Dean shouted, snapping his brother back to the land of the living.

Sam was clueless. “Huh?”

Jesse pointed to the stove. “Thy pot hath runneth over.”

“Shit!” Sam swore, causing Dean to raise his eyebrows in surprise. It was rare to hear Sam use swear words. He grabbed a towel and hastily began wiping the frothy mess before it set and became harder to clean.

“Um…Sam?” Jesse carefully began.

Sam kept wiping furiously. “What?”

“Had Missouri told you guys about -”

Sam spun around, his face a mask of anger. “What? Are **_you_** reading my mind now too?”

Jesse raised and shook his hands defensively. “No. I am not psychic in the least! But it’s pretty easy to guess what upset you -”

Sam scoffed. “I am not upset. I am fucking pissed off.”

Dean whistled low. The ‘F’ word. The last time Sam had said that word was during demon blood withdrawal.

“Not to gang up on you,” Dean said evenly, “but I gotta agree with Sam. Things might have ended up -”

“Worse,” Jesse interjected. “Lilith wasn’t just some typical hell-twisted human soul. She was an archdemon. Made by Samael himself. And she was merely the first of **_many_**.”

Dean felt that irritating knot in his throat again. “There’s…there’s more of them?”

Jesse shook his head gravely. “Oh yes. Sefer Raziel says Samael fathered a bunch of kiddies with Lilith before he got sent to the big house. Archdemons. Plagues of mankind. An archdemon has never been exorcised by anyone. Human or angel. There was just one way to deal with Lilith and that was to KILL her. Had Sam not killed her…she would have laid waste to city after city, state after state, country after country…until you DID. If Missouri had told you what she knew, that Lilith was the last seal, you probably would have decided NOT to kill her. How many would have died before you were forced to kill her anyway? Just to stop her bloodbath? It was the lesser of two evils.”

Dean was forced to admit Jesse was right.

“The angels wanted Armageddon to happen. You think THEY would have killed her?” Jesse asked, venom dripping from his words. “No. It had to be you. The angels would have made life VERY tough on you, Sam, if you refused to kill Lilith. Missouri knew this.” Jesse looked pointedly at Dean. “Even the strongest of men can be broken given enough time…and effort. Missouri wanted to spare you angelic attempts at…persuasion.”

Images of Alastair filled Dean’s mind. Thoughts of Sam tortured in a similar way came unbidden. He willed them away and squeezed Sam’s shoulder but could find no words to say.

“I’m…sorry,” Sam said, more calmly, and turned his attention back to the stove.

Dean left the kitchen, pausing at the threshold. “I…I’m gonna call Castiel.” So saying, Dean left.

**~*~**

“That was lovely, boys,” Missouri said as she put down her fork. “Now, we have little time to waste. As soon as the food settles in our bellies we need to get a move on.”

Bobby nodded. The demonic omens had been increasing in intensity for almost two days.

“We were in the middle of preparations before you turned up,” Bobby informed her. “There’s just so much to pack. I mean…we don’t know what we could be facing, what could come in handy…there’s no time or room to take it all.”

Dean had been looking on pensively. “Missouri, how did you get here? You drove?”

She shook her head. “No. We were…brought here directly from India once our business there was finished. By one of Raziel’s friends. And Lord…let me tell you…my insides haven’t been right since.”

Sam could not help but smirk. “We know the feeling. What business did you have in India?”

Missouri, for want of a better word, got cagey.

Bobby came to her rescue. “I’m sure when the time is right, Missouri will fill us in.”

 _Like she filled us in about Lucifer?_ Sam thought, then quickly caught himself. It was obvious she and Bobby had been discussing it when the rest of them had been ejected from the room. Considering Jesse too had been sent away Sam had to wonder just what it was Missouri was hiding that she could only trust Bobby with. Maybe he could get some information out of Jesse.

“Running away **_to_** something is a lot better, strategically speaking, than running away **_from_** something,” Missouri’s voice faded in.

Jesse looked thoughtful. “Maybe we could use your place, Missouri. The demons don’t know about you since you’ve been working in the background all these years.”

Dean was agreeable. “Now there’s an idea.”

Bobby and Sam, however, begged to differ.

“I think the best idea is to keep mobile,” Sam said confidently.

“I concur.”

All heads turned sharply to the doorway of the dining room. A man in a trench coat stood solemnly at the threshold. He was drenched from head to foot but seemed to not take notice of it.

Dean got to his feet and hurried over to him. “Er, Missouri, Jesse…this is Cass…er…Castiel.”

Everyone respectfully got to their feet.

“It is an honor to meet…” Missouri began but was ignored as Castiel strode out of the dining room and into the living room. Everyone followed him, Bobby lagging a little behind.

Castiel paced the length and breadth of the room before turning to ask, “Well, where is it?”

“Not one for basic good manners is he?” Jesse asked sarcastically.

“Where is the book of secrets?” Castiel asked Jesse more directly, and with some heat.

Dean glanced nervously back and forth between Castiel and Jesse. “Um, Cass, that can wait. This is Missouri. She’s-”

Castiel shrugged him aside and approached Missouri with an angry swagger. Jesse quickly got between them.

“Cass, dude, chill…” Dean trailed off, getting to his feet.

A change seemed to come over Jesse. He seemed taller, buffer…dangerous. In an instant an inexplicable dread washed over Sam, Dean and Bobby, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown without warning over them. The gemmed serpent eyes on the pendant as well as those on Jesse’s bracelets seemed to flash fire and Bobby’s suspicion was confirmed - they were not worn for style but served a magical purpose.

“Don’t take another step,” Jesse warned, his voice low and menacing as a serpent’s hiss.

To Bobby and the Winchesters’ surprise - Castiel paused. “I demand to see the book,” the angel declared.

“All you had to do was ask,” Jesse said with an amused look. He pointed to the coffee table.

The dragon hide bound book lay on its surface once more, though nothing of the sort did mere moments before. Castiel approached it eagerly and, before anyone could utter a word of warning, tried to open it. An angry, electric blue discharge flashed over the angel and he was flung clear across the room to impact solidly with the wall. He landed with a sickening thud, several of Bobby’s mounted picture frames falling on top of him.

“Cass!” Dean exclaimed, running to the angel’s assistance. “Shit! You’re bleeding!” Castiel had a small scratch on the forehead from his impact with the wall. “How can you be bleeding?”

“Because…” Castiel began wearily. “My powers are diminishing further. It’s becoming worse the longer I remain cut off from Heaven.”

Sam and Dean helped him up and sat him on the couch. Their most powerful ally now appeared crippled. A couple weeks ago he had revealed he could no longer heal others (and hence, could not heal Bobby). But at least Castiel’s ability to repair his vessel’s wounds had not been impaired.

“I…was hoping there might be something in the book…” Castiel trailed off, miserably.

Jesse had Missouri take Bobby back into the kitchen and approached the now sulky angel carefully. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done. For an angel of your class…your power is tied to Heaven’s will.”

Castiel looked up at the boy despondently. “Just how much weaker will I become?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Dean asked, surprised.

Castiel shook his head. “Lower ranking angels don’t know every single one of Heaven’s secrets. There are things in the book that even the archangels don’t know. Raziel practically lived in the library’s archives and was an excellent eavesdropper.”

Considering what Bobby had said about Raziel hanging around the throne of God a lot and writing down all that he saw God say and do, that made sense.

“Your invulnerability and power to heal yourself and others will be among the first to go,” Jesse explained with an apologetic smile. “Your teleportation and ability to use the angel spiritual network for communication will probably be next.”

A sudden frightening thought struck Sam. “Can he be killed?”

“In his weakened state…yes,” Jesse replied. “Not by conventional means. But through sorcery or demonic power, certainly. Guns and knives, sticks and stones might not kill him…but they can sure hurt him though.”

Castiel touched the scratch on his forehead and winced. “I do not enjoy this sensation.”

Dean punched his shoulder. “It’s just a scratch, Cass.”

“I have never felt… ** _physical_** pain before,” Castiel revealed. “Angels carry out their duties without fear of it. We **_do_** fear death and the thought of not existing. But not pain.”

Jesse took up the book and held it securely (as Castiel was eying it once more). “I’ll…um…go see where Bobby keeps his first aid supplies,” he said, quickly exiting the room and heading for the kitchen.

**~*~**

“Everything alright in there?” Bobby asked as soon as Jesse walked in.

Jesse nodded and placed the book down on the kitchen table. “Yeah. I think he’s coming to terms with his new position. Where’s Missouri?”

“She went to tend to his wound…er…scratch. The first aid kit is in the bathroom by the way,” Bobby helpfully provided. “I think it might be smart if we keep that book a secret from now on.”

Jesse smiled shakily and agreed. “Well it **_is_** the book of secrets. You betcha.”

Bobby looked at him probingly. Jesse no longer seemed fear inspiring in the least. In fact he seemed pretty harmless now. “What was that back there?” Bobby asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Jesse smiled shyly. “I’m surprised it worked on Castiel. I guess in his weakened state he couldn’t see through it. It’s a glamor. A sort of hybrid magic. A cross between an illusion and an empathic spell.”

Bobby was impressed. While no sorcerer, he was no slouch when it came to the mystic arts. But his expertise lay more in the field of time consuming high ritual and sigil magic together with some exorcisms. Jesse, however, seemed to have an innate ability to conjure the mystic forces quickly enough to use on the field as a primary means of attack and defense. A skill that Bobby had not been able to master and always envied the few hunters who did.

“Nice trick,” Bobby said with a smirk. “We’re gonna have to have a talk soon, kid. I’m gonna go tell the boys to get a move on,” With that he wheeled himself back towards the living room, leaving Jesse alone with his thoughts in the kitchen…

**~*~**

“Storm rolling in,” Bobby said in disgust as he switched off his new cordless phone. “That’s what the sheriff thinks is messing with the signals in the area.”

Everyone was in the midst of packing. For the past week Sam and Dean had been using Bobby’s place as a home base of sorts, coordinating their anti-Armageddon effort from the most protected place they knew. Now, however, demons were swarming and while Bobby was confident they couldn’t get **_in_** …if they stayed much longer then they themselves would not be able to get **_out_**.

“Nice swords,” Jesse said, eyes shining, as he lifted and swung two medieval blades.

Bobby turned to face him. “Leave ‘em. We ain’t got the room.”

Jesse frowned but obediently tossed them aside. The front door swung open and a sweaty Dean strode in with Castiel in tow. Both of them were in charge of packing the weapons. Sam was busy with Bobby’s various magical supplies. And Missouri was occupied monitoring the area with her second sight.

“How much time do we have Missouri?” Dean asked, concern etched into his face.

Missouri, who had been sitting silently in the corner, opened her eyes. “We have at the very least two hours before they are upon us.”

Bobby grew concerned for Alvin, Simon and Theodore - his three dogs.

“I’ve taken the liberty of placing them in their transportation vessels,” Castiel said, pacifying Bobby.

Jesse looked up from the pile of unsorted books at his feet. “Um…Castiel, given your current situation…you might want to be more careful. Those beasts are dangerous. And mean.”

Cass looked perplexed. “On the contrary, I found them quite charming.”

Dean grumbled incoherently. He had narrowly escaped being bitten shortly before. “The last of the weapons are packed away. I got enough water stocked in the Impala and the jeep. There’s some canned food - heat and eat stuff. We can get some more eats and drinks along the way.”

“Great,” Bobby said. “Sam’s about done with the magical supplies.”

Sam nodded, dropping a bunch of amulets and medallions into a box. “Yep. Now all we need to do is -” Sam stopped short as the all the lights in the house suddenly went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

“Please tell me you forgot to pay the electric,” Jesse said in a low whisper. “Missouri?”

“I…don’t know…” she answered, worrying them all further.

Loud howls could be heard outside. The dogs were clearly upset.

“Sam, get the knife,” Dean ordered. He himself picked up several bottles of holy water and grabbed his shotgun and salt cartridges.

Sam obeyed but had to say, “Demons shouldn’t be able to set foot here.”

Bobby, by now, had his shotgun too. “We don’t know what Lucifer is capable of. Or what he might have brought out of Hell in the meantime. He’s been quiet but busy no doubt. My wards won’t help us against hellhounds.”

Missouri picked up one of Bobby’s swords and Jesse fetched the Sefer.

Dean bade everyone be silent. “Shh.” Movement could be heart outside in the yard.

“Stay inside,” Dean said commandingly to Jesse, clearly not in a mood to be challenged. “Keep Bobby and Missouri safe! Castiel, Sam, with me.”

The Winchesters and the angel sneaked out the back door, leaving Bobby, Missouri and Jesse inside.

Bobby wheeled over to a window. Missouri followed suite and took up a position at a window in the opposite side of the room. Jesse pored over the Sefer’s pages which seemed to radiate their own pale glow. “Vayo'mer 'Elohiym yehiy 'or vayehiy 'or!” he whispered raising his hand to the ceiling. There was a deafening roar from above, like thunder, and in an instant the house and its immediate surroundings were bathed in white light. “And God said Let The Be Light, And There Was Light…” Jesse trailed off, translating what he’d just said for Bobby and Missouri’s edification.

Gunshots tore through the stillness of the night. Sam and Dean could be heard shouting. But what they were saying was indistinct.

“Kid, behind you!” Bobby shouted, now able to see clearly.

But it was too late. By the time Jesse turned around his neck was seized in a vice grip and he was lifted off the floor. A muscled ‘man’ with protruding fangs was staring Jesse in the face, smiling sadistically as his mouth drew closer to the boy’s neck. Bobby didn’t have a clear shot.

Missouri let out a war cry reminiscent of a berserk Viking. She swung her sword and slashed through the back of his leather jacket. The vampire roared in agony and dropped a gasping Jesse to the ground.

“Silvered steel,” Bobby said with a grin. He wasn’t grinning long. The window behind him shattered and a skimpily clad female vampire threw Bobby onto the floor, simultaneously gyrating on him and reaching for his neck. Bobby struggled unsuccessfully to reach his gun which had been thrown out of his hands.

The first vamp had recovered somewhat and cornered Missouri. It turned on her, its face a mask of rage and its eyes pure black. She gasped in shock and tried to make a run for it but was seized by the jacket and thrown several feet into the air. She landed with a painful thud, her sword falling to the ground with a clatter. The vamp grabbed her by the jacket once more and was about to bite when…

“Hey, Dracula, don’t you know dark meat’s bad for your health?” The vamp turned around only to have the Sefer’s open pages shoved into his face. Blue electricity coursed over his body and and threw him straight through the window and clear across the yard outside. Jesse then turned to Bobby and flung the Sefer at his attacker. Like an electric sledgehammer it knocker her across the room, landed open on her chest and proceeded to fry her in a shower of sparks and blue flame. She screamed in unholy agony and was consumed to ashes before their eyes.

Bobby leaned against the wall and shielded his eyes. “Good work, kid,” he said to Jesse, who was helping Missouri up with one hand and rubbing his neck with the other.

“I’m not sure Raziel would condone the manner in which you treated the Sefer,” Missouri panted out. “But I sure ain’t gonna be the one to tell him.”

The gunshots outside had stopped and the front door swung open once more. Bobby, Missouri and Jesse jumped in surprise. But it was only Castiel. His coat was torn and his angel blade was drawn and covered in dark blood.

“Vampires,” he said, stating the obvious. “I would have sensed them were I at full strength. It appears Lucifer is making allies.”

Sam and Dean re-entered the house from the back door. Their clothes were ruffled, but they seemed otherwise unhurt.

“The UFO floating above the house?” Dean asked.

“That would be me,” Jesse said, kneeling over the ash pile that was once a vampire. He dusted off the Sefer. “I figured since they shut off the lights it meant darkness worked to their advantage. Lots of creatures have night vision.”

“Including vampires,” Missouri said, tenderly stroking her now torn suede jacket.

Sam immediately picked up the box in which he had packed the last of the magical items. “I think we better get the hell out of here. Like now.”

Without another word everyone grabbed a box and ran (or in Bobby’s case **_wheeled_** ) out the front door and straight for the waiting vehicles.

**~*~**

**To Be Continued...**


	2. ...When She Comes

“Will you please stop that?” Castiel asked without taking his eyes off the roadway. “It’s incredibly distracting.”

Jesse was trying his best to levitate the air conditioning unit’s remote control across the room. Try as he might every time he succeeded in getting it airborne…it fell with a clatter back onto the nightstand. Ever since he’d cast the divine light spell from the Sefer it had been like that. Next to no power. It had been so draining that when the vampire behind him grabbed hold he could do nothing to break free.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, finally giving it up. “You’d think Raziel would put a big warning on the page and not scribble it in a corner in fine print.”

Castiel withdrew from the window and took a seat on the plush armchair. “You’ll be fine in a few hours. The spells from the Sefer are incredibly potent. But many are spiritually taxing and were meant to be cast by a group. I’m surprised you had it in you. Especially given your age.”

In a corner Bobby, Missouri, Sam and Dean were engaged in a discussion about possible allies. They were currently arguing back and forth over the merits of calling Jo and Ellen Harvelle. As animated as the argument was (thanks in most part to Dean’s gesticulations) it was monotonous, and so Jesse withdrew his attention from it.

“I’ve been going through the book and I can’t find anything about demons possessing a vampire,” Jesse said to Castiel, by way of conversation. “Though there **_are_** a few references about the possibility of animal possession. Animal bodies can’t sustain a demon for long. It’s extremely short lasting but we might wanna do something about the dogs. Inscribe anti-possession sigils on their medals maybe.”

“I think it would be wise.” Cass, who had been fiddling with a frayed bit of his coat (and wishing he still had the power to magically repair it) looked up. “It would appear the demons have gotten innovative. No doubt Lucifer has been teaching them a few things. It allowed them to circumvent Bobby’s wards. Something that should not have been possible. But then those wards were designed to repel demons lurking within **_human_** hosts.”

“Just great,” Jesse grumbled. “Now we might not be able to rely on the good old classics.”

“Before this is over,” Castiel went on, “I expect we shall bear witness to magic and wonders that have not been seen for millennia.”

Jesse scoffed. “Yes and hopefully we’ll live to tell our grandkids about it someday.” Jesse turned to the others. The argument seemed to be winding down. “So what’s the good word?”

What indeed?

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Dean said flatly. “They’d only be a liability.”

Bobby rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, a couple months ago Jo **_did_** take down a werewolf over in Tuscany.”

“Bobby, please.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Werewolf? Knowing Jo it was probably nothing but a rabid dog.”

“Dean, stop it!” Sam said angrily. “You’re letting your history with Jo cloud your better judgment.”

Bobby had to make the pill more jagged. “Besides, Ellen is as good a shot as either of you two. And didn’t she and Jo get the drop on you two one time. Held you up at gunpoint?”

“I…we…” Dean trailed off incoherently as he shook his head, unable to find the words to explain just how bad an idea having Jo and Ellen around would be.

Jesse, a great lover of soap operas and drama in general, gravitated towards the table. “Who is Jo?”

Dean opened his mouth but Sam cut him short.

“She’s a hunter,” Sam answered, eying Dean and waiting for his rebuttal.

Dean stared his brother down in return and added. “Who **_almost_** got us killed.”

“Ooh,” Jesse said, interest piqued. “It’s a she.”

“She’s just a kid,” Dean exasperated.

Bobby wasn’t having it. “She’s older than Jesse. He probably can’t even legally drink yet and you haven’t said anything about his age.”

Jesse frowned. “Hey!” He reddened a little. “I turn twenty one in two months. I’m practically there.”

Missouri put her hand forcefully down on the table. “I say call ‘em. I got a good feelin’ about this. We can’t be everywhere at once. We need allies. And after tonight it’s safe to assume, so does Lucifer. I vote yes.”

“Outvoted, Dean. I’ll give ‘em a call now,” Bobby said triumphantly as he reached for his cell phone.

Dean raised his hands in equal parts resignation and frustration. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” he announced and grabbed his wallet. “I’ll be at the bar across the street.”

Castiel rose and followed him to the door. “I could do with a drink myself. Besides, we shouldn’t wander off alone.”

 _Since when do angels drink booze?_ Jesse thought to himself, but said nothing of it. “Hey, can I come with?”

“No,” they both said in unison and headed out the door.

Jesse turned to Sam. “Your brother’s a real jerk.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sam said with a smirk.

**~*~**

The following morning Jesse awoke to the aromatic scent of high quality coffee. Sure enough, after rubbing his eyes and looking across the room, he saw that Missouri was seated at the table with a steaming cup in her hands. There was another cup standing on the table together with a rather large white box.

“Courtesy of Castiel,” Missouri said, answering his unvocalized question. “He doesn’t need to sleep and saw to our breakfast first this morning after he walked the dogs. Along with keeping watch all of last night. Useful fella to have around.”

Jesse jumped out of bed and stretched. “What did he get?”

“Jelly donuts,” Missouri said in a mildly disapproving tone. “I think Dean has corrupted him.”

“Can you blame him?” Jesse asked, smirking crudely as he headed into the bathroom. “Dean can corrupt me anytime.”

Missouri rolled her eyes as she raised her psychic shields to avoid the suggestive images Jesse was maliciously sending her way. “Boy, **_when_** will you grow up?”

“Never! I’m gonna die young and beautiful!” Jesse’s voice echoed from the bathroom.

“Careful,” Missouri warned, “or you just might get your wish.”

While Jesse took care of morning business Missouri had a read of the paper. It read more like a tabloid than a legitimate newspaper what with the mysterious goings on across the country. Like the sudden surge of crop circles in Nebraska (which were really old Enochian sigils). The plague of rats that swarmed the streets of a small town in Maine (eyewitnesses swore they devoured several dogs right down to the bone). “Oh my…” Missouri trailed off as she read one headline. “Ann Coulter Dies Of Aneurysm In The Midst Of Homophobic Rant.”

“Why are you smiling?”

It was Jesse, fresh from his morning duties. She flashed him the page and they shared a brief but much needed laugh.

“Alright, comic relief’s over,” Missouri announced, dropping the paper. “Are you back up to scratch?”

Jesse gestured to his unkempt bed. The sheets promptly straightened themselves into a semblance of order. “Good as new. What’s on the schedule for today?”

“Well let’s see here…” Missouri trailed off.

The first thing they needed was a change of clothing. So they’d hit the stores as soon as they opened. In addition to regular wear they needed to get attire more appropriate to hunting.

“Maybe there’s an army surplus store in town,” Jesse offered.

Missouri smiled. “Good idea.”

They discussed at length for a few more minutes until their conversation was interrupted by a heavy handed knocking on the door. Jesse grumbled incoherently and put down his half eaten donut and went to see to whoever was knocking so insistently.

“Sam,” Jesse said, snapping to alertness upon seeing the dour look on Sam’s face. “Is something wrong?”

Sam looked uncomfortable and was shifting around awkwardly in his (a little too loose) jacket. “We…have company.”

Jesse’s face twisted in surprise. “I thought your friends weren’t meeting us here but next town over?”

Sam shook his head. “No it’s not Jo and Ellen. It’s…” Sam sighed, “it’s someone else. Could you meet us in our room?”

“Um, sure,” Jesse said, turning to call Missouri.

**~*~**

“What…what is it?” Jesse asked, grabbing hold of Missouri’s arm. The psychic had pulled back her hand from the doorknob as if she’d been burnt. “Are you okay?”

Missouri slowly turned to face him and Sam. “I…yes. I just felt something flow through me. Like a psychic version of a small electric shock. I get the feeling that your friend is someone special, Sam.”

“Yeah, she’s special, alright,” Sam said under his breath then opened the door himself and led them inside.

They had barely made it inside before their ears were assaulted by a high pitched SQUEE! and an

“OH MY GOD!”

“What the hell?!” Jesse asked immediately assuming a defensive stance. Sam rested a calming hand on his shoulder.

Dean and Castiel were sitting on one of the beds with annoyed looks on their faces. Bobby was in his chair, arms folded and rolling his eyes. Standing before them was a young blond woman with a huge grin on her face. She slowly approached Missouri.

“Oh my God,” she said in a softer (though equally excited voice), “Missouri? Missouri Moseley…is that you?”

Missouri glanced at Sam then turned once more to the awestruck girl. “Yes…have we met?”

“No,” the girl said, closely her eyes tightly and pumping her fist in the air as if to say ‘yes!’. She opened her eyes once more and said “My name is Becky. I am such a…well, I always been such a huge fan of yours. Ever since **_Home_**. You’re one of the few female characters I like!”

Missouri took a couple shaky steps back. “I beg your pardon.”

“Oh you know,” Becky said hurriedly. “When Sam and Dean went back to Lawrence because of the poltergeist and you helped them get rid of it. It’s such a shame it took four full books before he wrote you back into the series again…but you’re here…now…um…can I have your autograph?” Becky paused and withdrew a camera from the small satchel that hung on her shoulder. “And a photograph?”

“Uh, what is she talking about?” Missouri asked, nervously wondering who the crazy in the room was.

Dean looked flabbergasted. “You mean you don’t know?”

Missouri eyed him cuttingly. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m a humble psychic…not God? Can nothing get through that thick skull of yours?”

Becky burst into a cackle. “You’re just like in the book.”

“Okay, what’s going on? Someone spill,” Jesse interjected, subtly positioning himself between Missouri and the crazy girl. Becky’s gaze shifted to him.

Becky skipped forward a bit. “Ah, and you must be the mysterious new stranger - Josh!”

“Jesse.”

“Hmm, Mr. Edlund must have made a few revisions,” Becky mumbled to herself. “The draft I photocopied had you down as a Josh. I wonder how long you’ll last. Mr. Edlund has a real high turnover rate with his supporting characters. Most are in for a couple chapters and then *poof* - gone forever. I think it’s the number one sore spot with the critics actually, that and the lack of strong female leads…or **_any_** women who -”

Sam had had enough. “Becky, sit down and be quiet. Missouri, Jesse, we need to talk…”

**~*~**

Missouri put down the paperback (that Becky had so kindly provided) with a resounding thump. “Well I’ll be damned,” she said, staring at the girl. “It’s all in here. Everything that’s happened so far.”

Jesse was flipping through pages and alternated his gazes among Sam, Dean and Bobby who all felt completely naked as their lives were laid bare. “The hell…” Jesse trailed off. “ _Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental_ my ass.”

“Becky, why are you here?” Dean asked, his impatience finally getting the best of him.

She glanced towards Sam and blushed.

“Besides that,” Bobby snapped.

Becky’s lovestruck gaze turned solemn in a flash. “I want in.”

Bobby laughed incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Becky continued. “ I want piece of the action.”

Castiel, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke. “Do you think this is some kind of game? For your entertainment like those books are? It may just be a matter of time before you and everything you know is erased from existence in the worst way possible.”

“Well, duh.” Becky yawned theatrically. “Hard to take college art classes seriously when I know all about this stuff that’s going down. Besides, every effort I put in on finally graduating might be wasted anyway. I rather work hard at something that might help save the planet.”

“So go out there and recycle,” Dean responded irately then grabbed the books and shoved them into her hands. “Here start with these!” With that he began to forcefully ‘escort’ her out of the room.

Jesse watched on and asked Missouri in a whisper, “You getting anything?”

“No, there’s some kind of psychic static around her. There’s very few things that could cause something like that,” Missouri said, her eyes narrowing. “Lord knows what this girl has gotten herself mixed up in. Those books have all kinds of dangerous information in detail. Look, here it says how to summon a crossroads demon.”

Becky shrieked, commandeering all attention, as Dean yanked at her arm. She dropped her precious books and clutched onto Sam’s pants leg with a vise-grip and began to plead and beg. “Please just hear me out! I can be really useful to you guys! Haven’t I helped you out before?!”

“You led us into a **_trap_** before,” Dean said and looked at her darkly as he remembered the whole ‘hill made of forty two dogs’ incident.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Becky said in her defense.

Bobby held up his hands for silence and Dean loosened his grip on Becky (though he didn’t relinquish it). “Just what kind of information do you have to offer? And just how did you come by this information?”

Seeing an opening, Becky was quick to answer. “I…er…snuck into Mr. Edlund’s hotel room and copied a few drafts of his newest book. That and the script.”

Missouri looked at her in amazement and asked, “Script?”

“Oh yeah. Mr. Edlund is trying to pitch the series as a TV show,” Becky announced with glee. “I heard on the _Supernatural_ grapevine that he was headed to some interviews…and I…um…”

The shock of this newest revelation was enough to allow the rabid fan girl the opportunity to break out of Dean’s hold.

A question had been bugging Sam ever since Becky showed up at his motel room door. “Becky, how did you find us? Is our location in the books?”

Becky shook her head. “No. Not by name. The town’s name isn’t specifically mentioned.” Here she hesitated.

“Spit it out,” Sam commanded.

“Well…” Becky said, dragging it out slowly. “I had a witch track you down. She charged a ton of money but it was worth it.” She smiled lovingly at Sam. “Obviously. I had to use the classifieds and trial and error until I found the real McCoy but -”

“That is impossible,” Castiel said with complete confidence. “The sigils I engraved onto their ribs blocks any and all tracking spells. There’s simple no way -”

Jesse slowly raised his hand. “Not **_exactly_** true. There is **_one_** way you can be tracked. But it wasn’t by using a spell.”

Dean and Sam glanced at Castiel, who shrugged awkwardly.

“Psychometry,” Jesse said with conviction. “My guess is that witch wasn’t just into magic but was a psychic as well. The Enochian cloak protecting you was **_circumvented_** not pierced. It requires a very personal object though. Preferably of the target’s own body. And the seeker must be someone with a really vested interest in finding the target. The stronger the emotional tie the better.”

Becky glared at Jesse and pouted. “Spoilsport. I don’t think I’m going to like you much.”

“I think Becky qualifies as having a really **_vested_** interest,” Missouri said with raised eyebrow. “And that’s putting it kindly.”

Bobby scratched his head absently. “Are you sure kid?”

Jesse nodded. “Oh yes. Enochian is OLD magic. Like the dawn of time. Back then psychic powers were unknown - they didn’t exist. Humanity hadn’t evolved to the point where we could access that kind of brain function. That’s why Enochian sigils can’t be used to shield against certain types of psychic detection - they weren’t designed for the purpose.”

 _It might also explain why Lucifer needed Azazel to breed special psychic children to free him_ , Sam surmised. To get around the Enochian based bindings that kept him trapped. The seals themselves must have an Enochian basis…

“I told you we were special,” Missouri said lightly before turning to Becky. “Now, Miss Rosen…just what personal object of the boys do you have?”

Dean eyes glazed over as his one track mind took him to the only place it could. “Sam, are you missing any underwear?”

Sam gasped audibly and vehemently said, “No!”

“Kleenex?” Dean went on, twisting his face in mild revulsion.

His brother did not even bother to gratify him with an answer.

Missouri smacked Dean’s head with a resounding crack. “Boy one more word and I’ll make you rinse your mouth out with bleach!”

Becky shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Well, last time we met…when I was hugging Sam goodbye…I kinda had a small razor blade hidden between my fingers and cut a lock of hair. As a keepsake. To remember him by.”

Jesse’s jaw dropped. “You sure you weren’t planning on cloning him?” He went on, “You could really use some CBT lady.”

Becky’s face twisted in confusion. “Cock and ball torture?” she asked in an almost inaudible voice.

“Heavens!” Missouri swore and shut her eyes tight, trying to ignore what she’d just heard.

Jesse shook his head and let out an exasperated breath. “No! Cognitive Behavioral Therapy!”

Becky reddened. “Oh.”

“You are one sick chick. A woman like you should be locked up. Preferably in a padded cell,” Dean said, his eyes flashing angrily. “Hand it over.”

Becky took a few shaky steps back. “I don’t have it on me at the moment. It’s in a safe place. I need to be sure I can find you if I have to. Which brings me back to my point - I know things. I could be real useful to you guys.”

“Missouri, read her mind,” Dean said in a commanding voice.

The woman looked at him and said icily, “I can’t seem to. And you better mind your P’s and Q’s with me, boy.”

“You can’t?” Dean fumed. “First the vamps, now this? Well you’ve been a whole lotta help!”

Becky plopped down on the armchair and made herself comfortable. “Well, I think it’s time we worked out a little deal. Shall we begin with the sleeping arrangements, hmm?” Her lips curled deviously (which disturbed everyone in a very profound manner)…

**~*~**

“Where are you guys going?” Becky asked in her chirpy voice.

Later that morning Dean and Sam had left to go see to what other odds and ends were needed before they left town. Castiel was busy walking Alvin, Simon and Theodore (he had taken quite a liking to them) and Bobby was busy making calls to various hunters, trying to spread the word and request any help he could. That left Becky alone and bored.

Missouri ignored Jesse (who was signaling ‘NO’ behind Becky’s back) and said, “We’re going to see to some shopping. Just a few pieces of clothing really. We need some…work clothes.”

Becky’s smile was back. “Ooh, can I come? If I’m going to be hunting evil I’m gonna need me some work clothes too.”

“Sure,” Missouri said to Jesse’s dismay. Her curiosity about the girl was getting the better of her and she thought perhaps Becky might let a few things slip if treated different. _You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,_ she mentally sent to Jesse.

The boy shook his head and replied, _I don’t catch flies. I swat ‘em!_

_Be nice!_

“We can take my car,” Becky said, jumping to her feet and grabbing her keys from off the small end table. “I need to buy gas anyway. I drove for three days to get here.”

Missouri thanked her. As they walk across the small car park Becky went on and on about how much she loved Missouri’s ‘character’ in the books and wished she was around longer than two and a half chapters. Hearing of herself talked about in that way was a bit disturbing but Missouri did her best to ignore it. She now had an inkling of what it felt like to be stalked.

“I remember the last words you told Sam and Dean were **_don’t be strangers_** ,” Becky said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “But would they pick up the phone and call? Noooo. Okay, hop in!”

“This is your ride?” Jesse asked, removing his sunglasses to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Becky nodded and lovingly stroked the hood. They were standing before a hot pink Mercedes Benz whose license plate read SAMLKR81.

Jesse knelt and inspected the custom rims shaped in the form of pentacles - Devil’s Traps to be precise. “How can you afford this? I thought you were a college student?”

“I am. But I got a trust fund from my granddad,” was Becky’s easy answer. “I doubt I’ll ever need to work for a living.”

“Then why do you even bother to go to school?” Jesse asked. “If it was me I’d be living the good life!”

Missouri rolled her eyes. “To improve herself of course. Because a fool and their money are soon parted.”

Becky surprised them both. “No. I just wanted my Wincest and Destiel fan art to look like they weren’t dirty pictures drawn by a six year old.”

“What’s Wincest?” Missouri had to ask. “And Destiel? Sounds like…is he an angel?”

“You do **_not_** wanna know!” Jesse said (having been informed by a dismayed Sam just what Becky was into). He covered her ears as he would a child. “Can we go now?”

They wasted no more time, got in and were soon driving through the nearly empty streets of the small town’s shopping district. The shops were only just opening and it seemed they had arrived early enough to beat any possible rush. As Becky looked for a legal parking zone (only to come upon sign after sign saying _NO PARKING_ ) Jesse could make out the pronounced brow lines on Missouri’s face.

 _Still nothing from her?_ Jesse projected to Missouri.

She glanced at him via the rear view mirror. _Not a thing._

All morning Jesse had been wracking his brains trying to figure out why Becky seemed to be immune to Missouri’s mind reading skills. She was not a demon. Or an angel. Or a monster. As far as he could tell she was just a desperate human female in serious need of some psycho-emotional help.

There were a few spells to shield one’s thoughts and aura he knew of. But they required not only the appropriate knowledge but massive amounts of spell power. So even if she **_did_** learn of such a ritual reading _Supernatural_ ( _God what a stupid, uncreative name_ , he thought) it was highly unlikely she could have cast it. Could it have something to do with her messing about with a psychometrist?

“Ooh, here’s a nice spot in the shade,” Becky said, pulling into a public car park and parking under a shady tree. She made sure to check for bird nests in the branches above when she got out. Bird poop was the last thing she needed to deal with. “So what do we get first?” Becky asked.

“Regular clothing,” Missouri said. “Jesse, why don’t you go see to yourself and me and Becky here will make a girl’s morning of it.”

_A girl’s morning of it? Getting reliable info out of her will probably be like getting water from out of a rock._

_Shush!_

“Sure,” Jesse said, mentally kicking himself for his duplicitous behavior. “Call if anything comes up. We can meet back here and ask around for that army surplus place when we’re done.”

At that they crossed the road to the shops proper and parted. None of them noticed the male figure standing across the car park staring at them…

**~*~**

“Can I help you, sir?” the perky young blond asked Jesse in a saccharine voice. It was the seventh time since he entered the store.

Jesse did his best to reign in his temper towards the ex-high school pep squad skank (as he thought of her). “No, I’m just looking. Haven’t seen anything I like yet.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” she asked, fingering a ridiculously overpriced **_orange_** T-shirt.

Fighting back puke Jesse had to ask, “Are you color blind?”

“Orange is making a comeback,” the girl insisted, looking thoroughly offended.

Images of Wentworth Miller in his orange prison jumpsuit filled Jesse’s mind. “I don’t even believe prisoners should be forced to wear orange. There’s laws against cruel and unusual punishment.”

The salesgirl (Julie by her name tag), obviously seeking her commission, was undaunted. “Okay, what about this outfit?”

“Brown jeans and a green tee…” he said, pretending to mull it over. “Okay, sure so instead of a carrot I’d look like a tree. Least I’d be moving on up the evolutionary ladder.”

Julie bit back a few choice words and pasted on a smile. “This?”

“That actually might come in handy…”

She smiled and reached to take the bright red shirt off the rack.

“If I were about to fight a bull,” Jesse finished, dashing her hopes yet again.

This was too much for Julie who looked to be on the verge of tears. “Well…call…if you need anything,” she said and quickly turned tail and went after some other customers who’d just walked in.

“Yeah, sure, you bet,” Jesse replied and picked up a black leather jacket that appeared to hold some promise.

It was then he felt the slap to the back of his head. He quickly spun around to find an upset looking Becky staring at him with cocked eyebrow.

“You’re so mean!” she said in one of the most whiny voices he’d ever heard. “That poor girl.”

Jesse sighed. “I thought you were shopping with Missouri.”

“Oh she went to buy some underwire and a corset and well…” Becky trailed off before continuing in a whisper, “I really didn’t want to be around for that.”

Jesse blinked stupidly. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes I think her corsets are the reason she gets mad so fast.”

To both their surprise they shared a laugh.

“That looks nice,” Becky said, indicating the leather jacket Jesse had been admiring.

Jesse nodded and put it back. His fingers lingered on it a tad too long. “Yeah, it sure does.”

Becky looked at him, her face a mask of confusion. “Then why are you putting it back?”

 _Ah, the trust fund baby,_ Jesse thought. _Must be unthinkable to her._ “It’s a little out of my price range,” Jesse said simply.

Becky promptly grabbed the jacket and smiled.

“What are you…” Jesse trailed off before it hit him a moment later. “No. I couldn’t.”

Becky flapped her hands dismissively. “Pshaw! If you’re gonna be risking your life to save the world you should at least look good doing it.”

“I…thanks.”

“I actually had come in to buy a couple things for the guys anyway,” Becky said, leading the way down the aisle of clothing and grabbing various items as they went by. “Sam, love him to pieces, but he always wears those gosh darn flannel shirts. Considering the amount of disguises they use in their line of work you’d think they’d buy some more clothes for themselves. Like, take Dean with that one jacket of his.”

Jesse smirked as the visual of Dean’s weathered jacket came to mind. “I know. There’s **_broken in_** and then there’s just **_broken_**.”

“Exactly!” Becky exclaimed, suddenly deciding that maybe she liked Jesse after all. “And don’t get me started on Bobby! Somewhere deep down there’s a DILF but you’d never see it under the beard, cap and those god awful rags he wears.”

To this last sentence Jesse said nothing and instead shrugged and struggled to get unbidden images out of his head. Becky seemed to know the Winchesters and their mentor to a tee. No doubt she read her _Supernatural_ books religiously. He made a mental note to have a deeper read of them himself…

“Castiel would like this I think,” Becky said, fingering a fine new trench coat. “His is all torn up. I’d better get him a few more shirts while I’m at it.”

“Vampire fight last night,” Jesse said. “Demon possessed vampires.”

Becky eyes lit up. “Really? That’s new. I like it.”

Jesse frowned. “Well I don’t. They walked right over sigils and salt lines.”

“Mr. Edlund is really upping the stakes and suspense,” Becky said softly, wary of several fellow shoppers passing by.

Jesse had to remind her that Edlund was (as Castiel had explained) merely gifted with prophecy. He didn’t determine what would happen. He merely foresaw the future and used it as inspiration for his books.

“Of course it seems he is a pretty sucky writer,” Jesse said not so carefully. “Since he seems to be using the visions and dreams wholesale with hardly any input of his own. Because everything happens exactly as he writes it. I don’t get why we can’t just track this guy down and make him-”

Becky turned and said in a low voice. “Three reasons. First, sometimes he sees things AFTER they happened. Second, he already told them the ending - where Armageddon happens and we all die - and the boys said screw him and his writing. They’re both worthless. And third, he’s got an archangel protecting him. They use his information to try and make sure Armageddon goes down…and won’t let us near him. I’m sure they probably **_edit_** his work - censor more like - and don’t let him publish the juiciest bits.” She pouted. “Fascists!”

“Um, right.”

“Okay, I’m done!” she continued in her normal perky voice. “Ch-ch-charge it!” she hollered, walking briskly towards the cashier with Jesse in tow.

It was by then time to check in with Missouri and kick off their hunting apparel shopping spree proper.

**~*~**

“Excuse me, ma’am, but do you know where my friend went?” Becky asked the **_Bootylicious_** store clerk.

The heavily made up woman (far out of her natural ghetto environment) squinted. “You was with the fat, screaming lady who couldn’t fit into the corset, right honey?”

Jesse frowned at the rude (but apt) description of Missouri. Becky merely said, “Um, yeah.”

“Oh she left about half an hour ago,” the store clerk replied, then turned her attention back to her trashy magazine.

Missouri Moseley was indeed missing in action. They had agreed to meet back at Becky’s car and she was nowhere to be found. So Jesse had called her cell phone. It kept ringing and then went to voice mail. Missouri almost always answered her phone before the first ring finished properly (owing to her precognitive abilities).

“I’ll call Sam,” Becky said, whipping out her phone and punching numbers in rapid succession. “He’ll know what to do.”

Jesse didn’t bother to ask her how she knew Sam’s cell phone number. Instead he shut his eyes and tried to think only of Missouri. _Missouri? Can you hear me?_ There was no response. Of course it could mean she was just too far away.

“Sam says they’re on the way,” Becky informed Jesse. “He said we should wait here for them and don’t do anything.”

“Yeah, right,” Jesse said dismissively. “I need a magnet. Lodestone would be better but… Do you have a pair of headphones?”

Becky looked hesitant. “Um, yeah.”

“Can I borrow them?”

She opened the car door and fetched them. “What are you going to do?”

“Try and track her,” was Jesse’s response. “If the guys are here by the time I’m done then we’ll at least have a lead to follow up on.” So saying, Jesse suspended the headphones as one would a pendulum and diverted his thoughts to Missouri.

“Nothing’s happening,” Becky said disappointedly.

Jesse ignored her and did his best to focus harder. He didn’t have a personal item of Missouri’s to bolster the spell’s power. But he **_had_** been in close contact with her just that morning. Hopefully it would be enough to at least get a general direction.

“It’s moving!” Becky said with an excited smile.

Jesse opened his eyes. Indeed it was moving. Swaying from left to right, front to back. Presently it began to swing in ever expanding circles, wrapped itself tightly around his arm and snapped.

“Damn it!” he exasperated.

“What just happened?” Becky asked worriedly.

Jesse’s expression darkened. “I think she’s being cloaked.”

It was by then apparent beyond reasonable doubt that Missouri was in genuine trouble…

**~*~**

“One lump or two?” the handsome young ‘man’ asked Missouri, his sugar spoon hesitating above a steaming cup of herbal tea.

Missouri eyed him cuttingly. She was scared to pieces, true. But she was also an expert at hiding her real feelings. “Two please. Let’s live dangerously.”

They were seated in a little upscale coffee house on the other side of town. The place was bustling with people and if she didn’t know better, Missouri would have long since got up and tried to make a run for it. But this was a powerful being. As evidenced by the ease with which it sneaked up on her (without her sensing it) and grabbed in the car park, then coerced her into the town center. She very much doubted she could get away easily and there was no telling who could get hurt if they got in the way of her and the stranger.

She took a sip of the hot tea. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t catch your name as you were manhandling me through town.”

“It’s unpronounceable by human tongues,” the man said a little patronizingly. “But you can call me Aaron. And I apologize for any…discomfort I may have unintentionally caused.”

The front of civility the ‘man’ seated before her annoyed Missouri to no end.

“Rest assured,” Aaron continued, “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Well that’s comforting to know,” Missouri replied, her eyes narrowing. Not knowing what manner of being she was dealing with she thought it best not to try and read its thoughts. Just in case the creature picked up on it. No point in giving away information needlessly.

Missouri eyed her cell phone which was sitting on the table next to Aaron. It had been flashing (on silent mode) continuously in the past half an hour. After warning her to be silent or else (complete with a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’) it was the first thing he saw to.

“Not that you haven’t been a complete gentleman,” Missouri said carefully, “but do you mind telling me the reason for this…meeting?”

Aaron put down his cup and his demeanor swiftly changed to stark seriousness. “Your friend. She has something that belongs to me and I intend to get it back.”

“Friend?” Missouri asked, feigning ignorance.

“Yes. Your shopping buddy,” Aaron answered impatiently.

 _Sam and Dean were right,_ Missouri thought to herself. _That girl is trouble. This must have something to do with the drafts and scripts she stole._

Aaron’s logic was simplicity in itself, as he explained. Since he couldn’t have easily grabbed Becky without causing major commotion (due to the then bustling streets), he took Missouri when he caught her alone. A trade was in order.

“Friend is such a **_strong_** word,” Missouri replied. “We’ve only just met this morning. I seriously doubt she -”

Aaron frowned. “She had better.”

“Or what?” Missouri asked unable to hide the slight falter in her voice.

“Or I’ll have to forgo the niceties and simply take what's mine from her by force,” Aaron said. “I’m trying to be a nice guy and have her come forward.”

Missouri grew puzzled. “Then why not answer the phone and-”

“Because,” Aaron said, with an unnerving smile, “the longer you are missing, the more concern for your safety will grow…and the more compliant she will be to my proposal.”

Missouri said nothing to that. Aaron seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He certainly appeared to have a firm grasp on human motivation and behavior.

“Your tea is getting cold,” Aaron said crossly, then waved his hand over it. It promptly began to steam again. “Much better. Drink up.”

With mildly shaking hands Missouri figured she had better do what he said and not anger him. She took up the cup, blew on it, and sipped…

**~*~**

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Trial By Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback loved and craved! :) Thanks to all those who commented!

**  
This is the theme music for a certain section of this chapter. Guess which. Lol.**

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“No luck,” Dean said wearily as he and Sam walked into Missouri and Jesse’s motel room. He and Sam had been scouring the town all day asking different store staff, shoppers and even vagrants if they had any idea of Missouri’s whereabouts. They’d even checked the small hospital to see if any new patients matched her description. “See, this is why it pays to have GPS on your phone,” Dean said in a ‘you should know better’ tone. “I can’t believe-”

Sam smacked him hard on the shoulder and Dean shut up. Jesse flipped his phone shut with an angry snap. After having tried using various locater spells all day (to no avail) he decided to try calling Missouri’s phone once more as a last ditch effort. There was nothing else he could do and it felt better than doing nothing.

Bobby, Becky and Castiel had not yet returned from their canvassing of the town. Bobby and Becky were currently at the police station to file a missing person’s report. It was Becky’s idea. The more eyes and ears out there the better she had said. There were no new bodies in police custody that matched Missouri’s, or so Bobby had rang and informed them. Castiel had taken the dogs out, having put them on the trail with scent from Missouri’s blanket. He had not yet called back with news, good or bad.

Jesse seemed on the verge of panicking and was wearing tracks in the grungy motel carpet as he tried to think of what to do next. It was close to 6 p.m. and Missouri was still missing in action.

Sam walked over and steadied him in one place. “Dude, I think you should sit down and maybe have something to eat.”

“How can you even think about food at a time like this?” Jesse asked with an incredulous look on his face.

“You’d be surprised,” Dean said under his breath.

“Missouri could be -” Jesse continued.

“All the more reason to eat,” Sam interrupted him, choosing to ignore Dean. “If shit’s about the hit the fan we need to be energized and ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”

Jesse sighed but took a seat at the small table in the corner of the room and accepted the submarine sandwich Sam had thoughtfully brought along. Just as he was about to sink his teeth into it…

RING! RING! RING!

It was his phone. Upon flipping it open the caller ID revealed Missouri’s number and picture flashing on the screen.

“It’s her!” Jesse announced, which quickly drew Sam and Dean to his side. Jesse turned the speaker phone on for their benefit. “Hello, Missouri?” he said quickly, answering the phone. There was no immediate response. “Hello?”

After an awkward pause a suave male voice answered.

“She’s a little indisposed at the moment,” the man said. “Care to leave a message?”

“Who the hell are you?” Jesse demanded. “And what have you done to Missouri?”

The man laughed. “You’re certainly not one for proper phone etiquette are you?”

The unsavory language Jesse spewed into his mouthpiece served only to drive the stranger’s point home. Dean, appreciating the fact that Jesse was acting too emotionally, snatched the phone away. The boy protested but Sam silenced him with a look.

“Alright, Chachi, I’ve watched enough low budget TV movies to know how this works. So let’s cut the bull-crapping around the bush,” Dean said tightly, all the while trying to control his quip-ready tongue (owing to the stranger’s annoying British accent). “Why don’t you just tell us what you want and when and where the trade’s going down.”

The silence that resulted from this statement of Dean lasted a full thirty (disturbing) seconds before the man responded in an obviously restrained (and somewhat less refined) voice.

“Speak to your little blond friend,” he said. “She has some items that belong to me. Specifically, some documents which I expect delivered at the fountain in the town square. In two hours. And I expect all copies of the same. And if she tries to hide any…believe me. I’ll know.”

There was a beep as the mysterious stranger cut the connection.

Dean’s visage darkened. “Becky…”

**~*~**

“I swear I don’t know anything about any…whoever!” Becky insisted/whined. “And I don’t think I was followed.

Dean scoffed. “It’s obvious you were.”

As soon as Missouri’s kidnapper hung up, Bobby, Becky and Castiel were phoned and told to rendezvous back at the motel to formulate a course of action. Which they were currently in the middle of.

Sam interjected, hoping to forestall a full scale argument between Becky and his brother. “Becky, it might just be possible that not only is Chuck being watched…but you too. You are his number one fan and probably know his work better than anyone else out there.”

“He reached out to you before,” Castiel reminded her. “To try and warn Sam and Dean. They would be foolish to just write you off. So to speak.”

It took a moment for that to register upon Becky. “Me…me being watched?” Her eyes glazed over as it struck her that she might be of some importance in the whole Apocalypse drama after all.

“What if it’s not an angel?” Becky asked. “Suppose it’s a demon.”

“It’s probably an angel,” Bobby said to that. “He did say it was **_his_** property.”

Sam glanced at Becky and said commandingly, “Becky, get those papers.”

“But, Sam…” she trailed off (surprising everyone when she didn’t immediately do what Sam ordered).

Jesse shook his head. “But nothing. Get them **_now_**.”

Becky made to do as she was told but was stopped by Bobby. “Whatever is in those papers must be damned important,” Bobby said. “We should have a read through them quickly before we hand them over.”

“He said if we made copies he’d know,” Sam reminded Bobby. “It was part of the deal.”

Bobby shook his hands dismissively. “We’re not going to make any tangible copies. Besides, they must have figured we’d at least take a look see. Fetch ‘em, girl.”

Becky nodded and the said papers were fetched and quickly spread out upon the table. Everyone’s faces screwed up at the sight of Chuck’s handwriting. No one present could make heads or tails of it. Chuck also seemed to have a habit of making sketches of the various sigils and seals he saw in his visions. There were quite a few annotated Enochian cloaking sigils (among others) drawn in the margins. It would explain why the angels had not been able to find the stolen papers themselves and needed to resort to extortion to retrieve them.

“What the hell?” Dean asked, turning a page upside down and side to side. “Is this thing even in English?”

Becky shrugged. “I can make out a few words here and there so it has to be. But nothing solid.”

Sam looked at her and she shrunk under his cool gaze. “Do you mean to say you were blackmailing us with the promise of information when you didn’t even -”

“I was in the process of deciphering his hieroglyphics!” Becky said defensively. “In time I’m sure I can figure it all out. Look, that’s a ‘T’ and this is a ‘Y’…actually, wait, that might be a ‘T’ too…”

“No wonder you thought I was a ‘Josh’,” Jesse said as he pored over the scribblings. “You couldn’t even read this right. Far less interpret. None of us can.”

Sam scratched his head. “I guess now we know why they still want ‘em back. Because they know we couldn’t have made sense of these notes in the short time we had them. The secrets are still safe. Otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered to ask for ‘em back and might have just tried to kill us. Or wipe our minds clean.”

Becky frowned. “Such a damn shame after all the trouble I went through to get these.”

“Enough, Becky. Gather them up,” Jesse said and got to his feet. With a beckoning motion of his wrist the Sefer came flying across the room to his hands. “We’ll give it back to them. But I’m not trusting those sons of bitches to just hand her over like good sports.”

At that Jesse unclasped the bindings on the book and began turning pages furiously. Finally his fingers settled upon a richly illustrated and colored set of pages. They depicted an ornate longsword with a bejeweled hilt. As Jesse laid his fingers upon the image his fingertips took on an ethereal glow.

The surface of the page shimmered and rippled as if it were a pool of water disturbed by a strong breeze. With a sudden plunging motion Jesse slipped his arm **_into_** the book’s pages and fished around inside as if it were a duffel bag. Everyone’s eyes (except Castiel’s) widened.

“Ugh,” Jesse grunted as he finally withdrew his arm and brandished the sword. The page’s coloring swiftly faded and the image was now merely an outline.

Castiel stepped forward and the scrutinized the blade and the ruby and sapphire encrusted hilt carefully. “This is Raziel’s sword,” he informed Bobby and the Winchesters. “When he was exiled from Heaven his weapon was locked away in the armory. It was subsequently stolen and has been long lost. Along with several other weapons.”

“Consider it found. Raziel still has some friends in high places,” was Jesse’s reply. “This baby can put down any celestial being short of an archangel.”

Castiel’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why does he not carry his own sword?”

Jesse sighed. “I’m not sure how Heaven handles ‘top secret’ information but… His true vessel was killed some decades ago. He’s forced to move from host to host now whenever he has to get hands on. He leaves them before the physiological and mental strain damages them permanently. It’s the main reason why he’s not helping us fight more directly. And why he entrusted his sword to the Sefer.” He waved his hand over the Sefer and it camouflaged itself once more, vanishing completely from sight. “Let’s get a move on.”

“You better sit this one out, Bobby,” Sam said, and then realized how insensitive that must have sounded. “I…er…I mean…”

“It’s…fine,” Bobby said, keeping his voice even, and avoiding his eyes. “Someone has to stay and watch out for Becky in any case.”

“G-good luck!” Becky said as optimistically as she could.

Not wasting any more time Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jesse headed out the door…

**~*~**

“Okay, this is weird,” Sam said as they all exited the Impala.

At first they had thought it was a traffic jam. And so they waited for five minutes. The lineup of cars ahead of them remained stationary. Then it occurred to them that it was also the quietest traffic jam they had ever been in. There was not so much as a single honk. The biggest giveaway was the fact that the traffic lights turned green and no cars seemed ready to move anytime soon. So Dean pulled aside and parked the Impala and they began to walk the rest of the way to the town square.

“Everything is…frozen,” Sam said as they rounded a corner and came upon the main street. “And everyone.” Pedestrians and drivers stood or sat motionless, some in mid-step. Even a stray dog was caught mid-pee at a fire hydrant.

Jesse frowned. “Temporal stasis. Our guy is definitely in the big leagues.”

Castiel’s grim facial expression grew even more dire. “Only a Seraph or higher ranking angel could arrest temporal flow to such an extent.”

The first thought that popped into Dean’s mind was _Zachariah_. “I hope to God it ain’t that mother,” he said through gritted teeth. “It didn’t sound like him. But then he could be in a new vessel. I know **_I_** wouldn’t wanna be stuck in the meat suit he usually wears,” Dean continued, distaste evident in his voice.

After a few minutes of brisk walking they arrived at their destination and stood across the street from the town square.

Sam turned to Castiel, a worried look on his face. “Maybe you should wait here,” Sam suggested. “Might not be wise to let them see you unless it’s absolutely necessary. With you being exiled and branded a traitor and all.”

Castiel shook his head. “It could be some kind of trap. You could be grossly outnumbered.”

“So stay here, keep a low profile and lend me your sword,” Dean said, a glint coming to his eye.

The angel frowned. “Just as soon as you lend me the Impala.” Dean merely looked away and said nothing. Castiel then turned his attention to Jesse. “By the same measure walking in there with a stolen weapon would not be wise.”

Jesse’s response was, “That sword of yours can kill a Seraphim. But can you be one hundred percent certain that your run of the mill angel blade can kill a **_higher_** ranking angel? Hashmallim, Erelim, Ophanim?”

Castiel shook his head in the negative.

“Thought so,” Jesse went on. “If things go south then we need this sword and since I’m the only one here who can touch it…” He paused a moment and made a few passes in the air with his fingers. The sword faded from sight just as the Sefer did earlier. “Better?”

“I don’t see why we don’t just banish the SOB,” Dean said. “And make a run for it. With the right sigils he won’t be able to -”

“A - he probably will drag Missouri along if we do,” Jesse answered. “B - he’ll be back soon enough. And C - He **_probably_** might be pissed off and do something to hurt her.”

Since neither Castiel nor Jesse agreed to wait behind they all crossed the road and entered the promenade that constituted the town center. In the distance they could make out the large fountain where they were to make the exchange. The place itself was completely devoid of people. Which was good from a casualty standpoint.

“Took you long enough,” a male voice said as they approached the playing fountain. A male figure stepped into view from behind the cascading torrents of water. He was in his late twenties at the most and was attired in a smart, black, business suit. At his side was Missouri. She appeared unharmed.

“You okay, Missouri?” Jesse asked, not taking his eyes off her captor.

She nodded. “For the time being, yes.”

“Recognize him?” Dean whispered to Cass.

Castiel nodded stiffly. “Yes. It’s ppffffft.”

Sam, Dean and Jesse turned and regarded him with more than a little surprise. This was not the time for insulting jokes. Especially when the enemy had one of their own in his mercy.

“Cass?” Sam asked, clearly concerned.

The angel’s face was set with determination. “It’s ppppbbbbbt,” he said, trying again and succeeding only in making the sound of a deflating whoopee cushion.

Missouri’s captor smiled. “Excuse you.”

“It would appear that the human vocal apparatus is not equipped to pronounce his name,” Castiel quickly explained to his companions.

“You may address me by my vessel’s name,” the man said. “Aaron will suffice. Nice to see you too, Castiel. I must say that you do look somewhat worse for wear.”

Castiel reached inside his torn and ruffled trench coat and pulled out his sword.

“Oh relax,” Aaron said, waving his hand dismissively, a false smile pasted onto his handsome face. “I’m not going to kill you. Unless you get in my way of course.”

“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” Dean interjected, unable to keep silent any longer.

“Do you ever wonder why we simply exiled you, Castiel?” Aaron asked Cass, ignoring Dean for the time being. “Why we simply didn’t execute you for your treachery?”

“Because God himself resurrected me,” Castiel said with firm conviction.

Aaron laughed, a bitter, painful sound that almost made them feel sorry for him. “God indeed.”

“If not God, then who?” Sam asked earnestly.

“Archangels have the power to resurrect lower ranking celestials,” Aaron answered. “Granted, Michael and Raphael would never have done it. Which leaves Gabriel, though he’s long been missing in action, and…Lucifer. Take your pick. Have you switched sides, brother? You’d best be careful, boys. Or Castiel may stab you in the back just as he did to us.”

Sam and Jesse glanced at Castiel and saw he was just as surprised at the revelation as they were. Castiel, however, said nothing in reply to Aaron’s accusation. It was obviously a pitiful attempt to sow the seeds of mistrust.

Dean kept his eyes locked with Aaron’s. “I choose to believe it was God,” he said. “And even if it wasn’t I’d rather take my chances with him than join you sorry sons of bitches.”

“Faith, misplaced though it is…how touching.” Aaron’s face twisted into a mask of awe. “But I digress. The reason we didn’t kill you outright, Castiel, was to give you the opportunity to suffer the same fate as humanity when Armageddon finally comes to pass. And it **_will_** come to pass. As it is written…” Aaron extended his hand. “The documents please.”

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the stack of papers. “Missouri first.”

Aaron shook his head. “I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making demands.” With a flick of his wrist an unseen force pulled the stack of papers out of Dean’s hand and into his own. “Hmm, let’s see…” Aaron trailed off as his eyes took on a fierce white glow. “Good. There aren’t any additional copies. I’ve got to hand it to that girl. She managed to give us the slip.” The papers promptly burst into flames and were no more.

Sam’s eyes widened. “So you **_were_** following her!”

“Well of course,” Aaron said in a deprecatingly nasty tone. “She knows the mental and creative workings of the prophet better than anyone else on this mud ball. She’s special and deserves watching closely.”

“I’m surprised you’d let a security risk like her go running around wherever she pleases like that,” Jesse said with cocked eyebrow.

“What do you suggest we do? Kill her?” Aaron asked, then gasped melodramatically. “We’re not the monsters you take us for. No. We placed a shroud upon her to keep demons...or anyone else from tracking her or stealing information from her thoughts and dreams and such. We kind of like the girl. At least she goes with the flow and doesn’t seek to defy the prophecies. You could learn a thing or two from her. If you humans would just do as you’re told everyone would be much better off.”

“It figures you’d love a fanatic.” Dean let out an angry breath. “It’s called free will, buddy. If you got a problem with it then take it up with your daddy. Now, you’ve got what you wanted so give us Missouri.”

Missouri took a tentative step forward. “Well I guess I’ll just be taking my leave. Now that your business is all done.”

“Not so fast,” Aaron said warningly, stopping her in her tracks. His eyes flared even brighter. “I demand one further concession.”

Dean shook his fist. “A deal’s a deal! Even demons keep their word.”

“Demons also force possession upon humans, which we don’t.” Aaron said, looking throughly offended at the comparison. “I said I’d release the woman into your custody when what belongs to me is returned.” He turned towards Jesse. “You, boy. You’re hiding something.”

“Nuh, uh!” Jesse spluttered in surprise and tightened his grip on his invisible weapon.

Aaron frowned. “Ugh! I’ve had it up to here with you lying, cheating humans! Reveal!” He snapped his fingers and the invisibility spell masking Raziel’s sword promptly dissolved. “That…that sword!” Aaron executed the same flick of his wrist as before. The sword remained firmly in Jesse’s hand.

“I’m afraid that won’t work this time,” Jesse said with a shake of his head.

Aaron was positively fuming. He turned to Missouri, “And **_I’m_** afraid there’s a slight change of plans, lady.”

She swallowed a lump and said nothing, but merely wiped the beads of sweat from her brow.

“Return the sword to me this instant or face the full wrath of -” Aaron began, but was interrupted by Jesse.

“Okay, okay,” Jesse said in a slightly shaky voice. “Just don’t hurt Missouri.” He whispered under his breath to the others, “Just go along with this and prepare yourselves for anything.”

Aaron was smirking confidently. “Now there’s a smart lad. Approach and no funny business.”

Jesse slowly walked towards the angel making sure to keep the point of the blade facing downward to the ground.

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s close enough,” Aaron said, stopping him. “Drop it and kick it over to me.”

Jesse did as he was told, dropping the sword with a clang. He made sure to hesitate before he kicked it in order to make the ruse that much more convincing. It slid across the concreted ground and stopped just short of Aaron’s feet. He was positively salivating at the sight of the exquisite weapon.

“As I thought. It **_is_** Raziel’s sword. Which can only mean you are one of his minions,” he said, venom dripping off every word. “You lot are like rats. No matter how much we kill there’s always more of you.” He knelt to pick up the sword.

Jesse eyed Missouri meaningfully. She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Aaron picked up the sword and said with glee, “I think I’m going to be up for a promotion once I get this back to the vault. **_After_** I deal with **_you_** of course. If you have any last words or wishes I advise you to- ” The ruby and sapphires embedded in the hilt suddenly burst into crimson and azure flames. They crackled down the length of the blade and, more importantly, up the hilt and arm of the angel holding the sword. He screamed in pain as the coils of living fire seared his flesh. In an explosion of light he was flung backwards a good twenty feet and landed in a smoking pile.

Missouri seized her chance and made a run for it.

“Get her to safety,” Dean ordered Sam. He nodded and exited the scene with Missouri, making a beeline for the Impala.

Jesse beckoned with his hand and the sword promptly flew back into his grasp. By this time Aaron had somewhat recovered and got back onto his feet.

“Raziel’s sword,” Aaron said, grimacing a little in pain. “You have profaned it with your impure human touch.”

Castiel stepped forward, his own blade at the ready. “You may want to step back, Dean.”

Dean held his ground and drew his gun. He knew full well it wouldn’t do serious damage to Aaron. But Aaron appeared to be weakened considerably (as evidenced by the fact that the burns inflicted by the sword were not healing). Dean figured his distraction could prove useful to Castiel and Jesse as they maneuvered for a kill.

“You will be purified…” Aaron said raising his now flaming hands. “By fire.” Shadowy tendrils materialized around him and quickly took the form of six wings. Without warning Aaron leapt into the air, fully extended his wings and hovered above their heads, beyond the reach of their swords. “Die, defiler!” Aaron thundered, launching a fearsome globe of red and orange fire at Jesse.

Jesse lunged out of the way and managed to dodge it. It flew past him to collide with one of the numerous trees that were planted along the promenade. The said tree exploded into burning fragments and ash which rained down upon Castiel and Dean. Aside from a few singed hairs and clothing, they escaped major harm. All three dove for cover behind a grotesque, but large, modern art sculpture of a pregnant woman.

“What a fucking coward,” Dean grumbled. “Flying up over our heads like that.”

Castiel had news for him. “In his weakened state he won’t be able to sustain it for long. We need to wear him down. And once he tires and falls, we close in.”

Castiel’s words bore the ring of truth. After his first massive strike Aaron merely hovered and appeared to be suspended somewhat lower that he was previously. Indeed, judging by the arcane gestures he was making, it appeared he was trying to build energy for his next magical attack.

“Six wings. A Seraphim,” Jesse said, glancing at Castiel. “Your sword can kill him. A Seraphim’s attack of choice is with celestial fire. We need to mitigate his damage potential or we’ll never get close enough to kill him.”

Dean peeked out from behind the sculpture and fired a hail of shots. All hit their mark and Aaron visibly staggered in midair. Several seconds later a concentrated stream of high intensity flames exploded against the metal sculpture (which thankfully bore the brunt of the attacks well).

“You got any ideas?” Dean asked, as he patted out some stray sparks that landed on his jeans.

Jesse nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes. Castiel, head off that way and draw his attention,” Jesse said, indicating the far left of the square.

Castiel nodded and rushed off. Aaron’s fiery assault was immediate. Castiel dodged bolt after bolt of fire until he was finally hit in the back and fell.

“Cass!” Dean shouted, then left the cover of the statue. He fired continuously at Aaron as he closed distance with Castiel’s prone form. He succeeded in stunning the Seraph temporarily and quickly dragged Castiel into the cover of some shrubbery, stripping the charred and smoking trench coat off him as he did so. “Shit!” he swore when he saw the burned, raw flesh on Castiel’s back.

Castiel's face was a contorted mask of pain. “I’m…I’m okay,” he said in as brave a tone as Dean had ever heard.

“Atta boy,” Dean responded encouragingly, then peered through the bushes.

Aaron hovered even lower now and a was within a sword’s reach if the wielder could manage a decent jump. Cass was out of commission so it was up to Dean and Jesse. _Where did he go?_ Dean wondered.

Dean turned to Castiel. “Gimme your sword.”

“I dropped it,” was the angel’s reply.

Dean swore under his breath. Just then everyone’s attention was commandeered by Jesse.

“Hey, over here you big flamer!” Jesse’s voice could be heard shouting from across the square.

Aaron turned his attention back to his primary target. Jesse was currently standing in the large pool into which the fountain’s water ran. He was thoroughly drenched and, therefore, well protected from Aaron’s flames. He appeared to have dropped Raziel’s sword and instead had both his hands extended with the little fingers touching his thumbs and the middle three fingers held up straight. The gems on his pendant and bracelets were by then gleaming.

“Your base magics will not avail you, sorcerer,” Aaron said threateningly, the white glow returning to his eyes. The flames around his fists intensified.

Jesse stood firm in the face of the Seraph’s advance. “Varunastra!” Jesse shouted, invoking the Vedic god of water. He swiftly raised his arms to the sky. The waters in the pool churned violently and launched themselves in a column at Aaron, knocking/washing him clear across the square.

While Aaron was incapacitated Jesse gestured wildly, directing torrent after torrent of water around the length and breadth of the square, soaking the area in order to decrease the damage the Seraph’s flames could inflict. Another gesture of Jesse’s resulted in several fire hydrants exploding, releasing geysers of water into the air and bringing about the effect of rain in the immediate area. In the meantime Dean took the opportunity to rush out of the bushes and look for Castiel’s fallen blade.

Aaron was soon back on his feet but his angelic wings had faded into nothingness and he was again earthbound. “Clever,” Aaron admitted, now realizing his flames were all but useless. “Won’t make a lick of difference though.” Aaron raised both arms and the concrete beneath him began to shake and crack. Three stone benches promptly tore themselves out of the ground and hurled themselves at Jesse.

Jesse waved his left arm in a dismissive manner and a wall of water rose up from the pool and deflected the incoming missiles. “Not feeling so hot now are you?” he asked with a sneer. “I’ve eaten vegetable curry that burned hotter **_and_** longer than you did.”

Aaron gritted his teeth and summoned the entirety of what strength remained to him. Several large boulders from the nearby rock garden levitated, followed by heavy stone tables, garbage bins, lamp posts and even the decorative bricks that formed the pattern on the ground.

It was only when two cars parked across the street started shaking that Jesse realized he was in trouble. His eyes widened and he braced himself for the impending assault. It never came. Before Aaron could launch his final devastating strike, a zinging sound could be heard vibrating in the air followed by a dull crunch.

“Aaargh!” the Seraph screamed and looked down to discover an angelic blade protruding through his chest. He turned around only to see Dean’s arm still partially extended from throwing Castiel’s sword.

Dean was scowling. “That’ll teach you to shoot someone in the back you wuss.”

The suspended objects fell to the ground with a deafening crash and white light began to bleed from Aaron’s mouth and eyes as he slumped to the ground lifeless. The scene around them was one of utter devastation. Dean stood motionless for several moments as the sheer magnitude of what he’d just done washed over him. He’d killed an angel. A Seraph no less.

“Dean!” Jesse shouted, snapping him out of his awestruck state. “We have to get out of here now! The temporal stasis. With him dead it’s no doubt worn off,” he warned.

“Right,” Dean said, snapping to attention. He pulled the blade out of Aaron’s back and ran to the bushes. “Gimme a hand with Cass.”

**~*~**

“We have to get him to a hospital,” Bobby said adamantly after he had a preliminary look at Castiel’s back.

Castiel shook his head violently and tried to get off the bed. “No! No, I’ll be fine.”

“Take it easy,” Dean said, steadying him. “Cass, your body is just as vulnerable as ours now. You need medical attention. This isn’t going to heal overnight like it used to.”

Becky had by then finished securing cling film to the angel’s back with sticky tape. They were taking no chances with infection. “This is at least a second degree burn,” she informed them. “It’s going to leak fluid and electrolytes. He should be on IV fluid supplementation.” Everyone looked at her oddly. She blushed. “Okay, so I watch a lot of _Dr. Sexy M.D._ I **_do_** have a life outside of _Supernatural_ you know.”

Dean adjusted the surprised (and not altogether unpleasant) expression on his face and turned to Jesse. “And there’s nothing you can do?”

The boy sighed. “As I explained to Bobby when he asked last night…the ability to heal, no strings attached, is extremely rare. Only higher beings and those they bless possess it. The closest I can do is **_transfer_** the damage onto someone else and that…would count as some pretty dark ritual work. Bobby, I’m sure, knows this or he’d have done it himself by now. It would effectively be the same as cursing someone. And I don’t think any of us can afford bad karma **_now_** of all times.”

“Then we get him to a hospital straight away,” Missouri said, taking command. “Sam, find out which hospital is nearest and if they have a decent burn unit.”

Sam nodded and went to fetch his laptop.

“Dean, see if you can find a loose shirt or such for Castiel to wear,” she continued. “Try going through Sam’s things. Yours might be a tad too small.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, but was swiftly silenced with a glare.

Jesse smiled a little teasingly. “Well, Dean. You have to admit. None of us guessed Cass was packing that kinda bod underneath that big old trench coat of his.”

Dean’s eyes raked over Castiel’s well muscled form. Jesse was oh so correct. Cass was right on par with Sam’s well chiseled body. Dean, however, said nothing but, “I’ll go have a look see,” and quickly left to go dig through Sam’s clothing in the Impala.

Becky raised her hand as a schoolgirl would. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Sure,” Bobby said, looking in her direction. “We need to see about cloaking you from the angels. I’m thinking a tattoo might be best for the time being since Cass can’t carve it into your ribs at present. I saw a body art place in town as we drove through. It’s still early. They probably are still open.”

“Good idea,” Missouri said. “Probably smart not to wait until morning. Jesse?”

“Mm?”

“I want you to come with us to the hospital,” Missouri told him. “We can’t exactly go about laying salt and drawing sigils and then leave them in plain sight for everyone to see. We’ll need you to hide them.”

“Sure thing,” Jesse replied. “I’ll just go change into some dry clothes,” he continued, as he headed off to his own room.

**~*~**

“And your relationship to the patient is…” the attending nurse asked Dean (who was busy trying to get Cass to stop fidgeting with his hospital gown).

“He’s my brother,” Dean promptly answered, then slapped Castiel’s wandering hand.

The nurse, who had a motherly air about her, asked, “Just for our records, Mr. Lennon, do you know precisely what form of mental impediment your brother’s got?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You think Ca-Cayce’s…er…challenged?”

The nurse lowered her clipboard and said kindly in a soft voice, “It’s kind of…obvious.” She motioned with her pen. Castiel was playing with the pulse oximeter connected to his thumb, snapping it open and shut. He seemed mesmerized by the penetrating red glow shining through his fingernail.

“Cayce, stop that,” Dean whispered and steadied the angel’s offending hand yet again.

Castiel opened his mouth to protest but then remembered - Dean had told him that **_he_** would do all the talking. No doubt Castiel’s muteness served to increase suspicion that he was mentally handicapped.

It occurred to Dean that perhaps an opportunity was presenting itself. It was only a matter of time before Castiel said or did something eccentric and maybe having the hospital staff assume he was ‘special’ would be an effective cover. “To be honest,” Dean said in his best Texas drawl imitation, “I ain’t rightly sure. He’s always been like this. Ever since…” here Dean paused for dramatic effect.

“Ever since what?”

“Ever since…the…the horse,” Dean continued, artificially hitching his voice up in ‘distress’. “It was a stallion, Thunderbolt we called him…mating season…” Dean couldn’t bear to go on. “We…we don’t like to t-talk about it.”

The nurse put down her clipboard and took Dean’s hand. She squeezed it comfortingly. “Oh honey…I’m so sorry. We’ll take extra special care of your brother.”

Dean smiled. At least he could rest a little easier knowing that it would put a dampener on Cass’ plans should he try to wander off and ‘escape’.

The nurse turned to Cass. His eyes were wide (in awe at Dean’s powers of fabrication). “Poor thing looks traumatized,” she whispered to Dean. “So sorry to make you discuss it in front of him.” She directed her attention to Cass once more. “You’re going to be just fine, okay?”

Cass nodded dumbly (while Dean winked behind the nurse’s back).

“Aw, bless. He’s so brave. Well, I have to see to the other patients,” the nurse said, gathering her stationery and nurse’s notes.

“Um, Nurse…Hagen,” he began tentatively, “do you have any idea how long his stay might be? The A&E doc didn’t say…or maybe he did and I missed it. I dunno…”

“Dr. Robinson will be along shortly,” Nurse Hagen said. “But I’ve seen patients with similar burns stay for a couple weeks.”

Dean sighed. “Thanks, Nurse Hagen.”

“No problem. Bye, Cayce,” she said, giving Castiel a cute little wave (which he returned in like manner). She giggled in amusement and then left the ‘brothers’ alone.

As soon as she was out of sight, Castiel swung both legs over the side of the bed. “Dean, I **_cannot_** stay in here for two weeks. We don’t know what Lucifer can accomplish in that time.”

Dean hurriedly shut the door to prevent prying eyes and ears from eavesdropping. “Look, Cass, you don’t have much choice. You need treatment. And if you try to leave, given your…mental condition…they will tie you to the bed. And trust me - not in the **_good_** way.”

Castiel tilted his head in the manner he always did when confused. “There’s a _good_ way to be restrained in a bed?”

Dean chuckled nervously and looked away, unable to meet the angel’s inquisitive eyes. It was always like that with Cass. Dirty jokes and innuendo he usually blurted out (after years of practice with Sam) usually left him feeling a little guilty when they slipped out unbidden when talking to Cass. He **_was_** an angel of the lord after all. “Look, it’s not like we have any idea what Lucy’s up to or where he is. And even if we did we don’t have a way to stop him yet.”

“What if a situation arises and -”

“Then Sam and I can take care of it,” Dean interjected. “And Jesse can take care of your safety needs. Missouri and Bobby can stay to keep you company and watch out for ya too.”

“I…” Castiel’s voice faded as he realized Dean was right. He was not much good in his current state and would probably just put them in danger if he couldn’t pull his weight. “Dean. My sword. I’m lending it to you so take good care of it. I hid it -”

“Under your mattress,” Dean finished with a smirk. “Relax. I got this.” He slapped Cass good-naturedly on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit. I need to check in with the billing department.”

Castiel nodded and watched him go. “This sucks buttocks,” he said with a pout.

**~*~**

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments most welcome! My first attempt at a fic with Destiel. I bruise real easy *wink wink* so be gentle! :)


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